


Picking up the Pieces

by Ayngelcat



Series: Grapple and Scrapper Chronicles [2]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 17:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the Grapple/Scrapper chronicles. Soon after arriving on Earth, Hoist despairs about his best friend's lovelorn behavior.</p><p>Warnings for fluff and cross factional angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picking up the Pieces

Hoist was trying to concentrate on his data-pad; after all, this solar power tower was important. It was, however, impossible to ignore the agitation of the one who should have been even more enraptured by it than him. Hoist watched with a growing sense of gloom and rising anger as the yellow crane left the room for the seventeenth time that half cycle.

As predicted, Grapple was back within the next breem, and sliding into the chair in front of the computer console. Hoist watched as he activated the newly installed intra-galactic web, scouring the social media. The message pages of _Spacebook_ , _Live Universe_ and _My Galaxy_ in turn filled the screen. Hoist could not help it – jealousy surged through him. He knew exactly whose messages Grapple hoped for.

Evidently, there were none. Grapple rose, running a hand over his helm. He paced thoughtfully to the other end of the room, his demeanor suggestive that he was searching his comm channels also which was, Hoist was certain, exactly what he was doing – hoping that by some faint chance the much awaited communication might be there instead. Then, without a word, he was off again. The doors hissed shut behind him, his footsteps echoing as he walked away.

Putting down the datapad, Hoist flicked on the screen which showed the Ark entrance and area just outside it, and waited. As expected, Grapple walked outside and paused, scanning the terrain beyond the mountain for signs of activity. Evidently, this also drew a blank. A sigh went through the golden crane, his face taking on again that pained aura of dejection and disappointment.

Hoist snapped off the CTV more firmly than he intended, testament to the annoyance he didn’t want to feel. Getting up, he made his way through the doors and towards the exit corridor. He would, he thought, intercept Grapple this time and they would go for a walk, or a drive, or something; anything that might settle his friend down.

Yes, they would do that; and Hoist would get Grapple to ‘talk’ about this – even though it was the last thing in the Universe Hoist wanted to hear about. And Hoist would try – yes, he really would make a _supreme_ effort – not to judge, and not to seethe with jealousy over the attention Scrapper commanded, or wish that the anguish, the longing, the anticipation was intended for him and not the Constructicon leader.

Nevertheless, as he made his way to the entrance, the ordinarily good natured technician’s hands balled into fists. _If that smartafted loader does not make contact soon_ , he thought,  _then I personally will go to their base, barge into the Constructicon quarters and drag him out by his shovel. And the hell with what Hook or any of the rest of them want to do about it …_

It was, Hoist thought angrily, just a game to Scrapper; a testament to his obsession with cranes and his greed, that the attentions of his own team mate were not enough. But Grapple’s feelings were real, the infatuation he mistook for love, a serious business. And as a good friend and Autobot, Hoist would be there again - as always - to pick up the pieces.

He also hoped – as usual – that this would not be literally.


End file.
